ttle one once who was flesh of my flesh, on whom I lavished the
delight and tenderness of my soul, and the great Father took her. He
sent nothing in her place, though I prayed and prayed. And now I shall
put you there. Surely the good God cannot be angry, for you have no
one."

She had followed a sudden impulse, and was not quite sure it was for the
best. Only her mother heart cried out for love.

The child stared, motionless, and it dampened her ardor for the moment.
She could not fathom the eyes.

"Are you not glad? Would you not like to live with me?"

"Oh, oh!" It was a cry of rapture. She caught the soft white hands and
kissed them. The joy was so new, so unexpected, she had no words for
it.

CHAPTER IV

A HUSBAND

Lalotte Dubray had had the gala day of her life. Her peasant wedding had
been simple enough. The cure's blessing after the civil ceremony, the
dance on the green, the going home to the one room in the small thatched
hut, the bunk-like bed along the wall, the two chests that answered for
seats, a kitchen table, two shelves for a rude dresser, with dishes that
had been earned by the hardest toil, but they were better off than some,
for there was a pig grunting and squealing outside, and a little garden.

Times had grown harder and harder. Antoine had been compelled to join
the army and fight for he knew not what. Then he had decamped, and
instead of being shot had been sent to New France. Lalotte was willing
enough to go with him.

Hard as it was, it bettered their fortunes. He had gone out once as a
sort of servant and handy man to the company. Then he had struck out for
himself. He was shrewd and industrious, and did not mind hard work, nor
hardships.

Now he was in the lightest of spirits. He had some choice furs that were
eagerly snapped up. The Indian women had been shrewd enough to arrange
tempting booths, where frying fish and roasted birds gave forth an
appetizing fragrance. There were cakes of ground maize baked on hot
stones, and though Champlain had used his best efforts to keep some
restraint on spirituous liquors, there were many ways of evading.

Lalotte was fairly stupefied with amazement at her husband's prosperity.

"Why, you are rich with that bag of money," she cried. "I never saw so
much."

He laughed jovially. "Better than standing up to be shot--he! he!
Jacques Lallemont had the idea, and they wanted emigrants for New France
bad enough. Why don't they send mor